Let the Darkness Rise
by BlackRosePoetry
Summary: "Oskan supposes he can rationalize it. She's the mother he lost (isn't that a sick and twisted thought). But the Vampire Queen, with her elitist smirk, smooth cream-colored skin, aristocratic hands and delicate high-cheekbones, that aquiline nose, is also the mother he never wanted." Rated M for non-con, abuse, graphic violence, and detailed sexual situations in later chapters.


Oskan supposes he can rationalize it.

She's the mother he lost too soon (isn't that a sick and twisted thought)

But the queen, with her elitist smirk, smooth cream-colored skin, aristocratic hands and delicate high-cheekbones, that aquiline nose, is also the mother he never wanted.

There is none of that White Annis gentleness anywhere to be found.

She can be - no she _is_ - cruel, and he knows this. It's in the way she smiles, prods and torments with that devilish enticing smirk.

The way she digs her cherry red, bloodred stained nails down his skin and leaves fired trenches down his back. The way she laughs and calls him "little baby Oskan" in a manner far too crazed and desperate. It should terrify him, disgust him, drive him out of her bed (and her castle and the forest and the stables) - instead, it makes him groan, bury his face in her orchid smelling waves. It pulls him under, turns him on, makes the monster living in his soul growl and snarl and beg for more. Somehow she wormed her way in, and when he looks in those crystalline azure eyes he's lost, drowning in her scent her skin her voice her everything.

Somehow she's become his

Everything.

It's so fucked up must be gotta be

Oskan can't even remember his mother's face anymore. It doesn't seem to even matter anymore because every time he closes his eyes he sees _her_. He's choking on sweet cloying addiction that claws at his skin and eyes.

If young girls who lose their daddies spend life searching for a replacement who's to say young boys who lose their mothers search for a replacement just the same -

Or maybe they search for an antithesis, one that doesn't die and leave their son with all the love they could possibly muster, but one who is cold and calculating and cruel and lives an eternal non-life with no goal other than to kill, maim, violate

Except for afterwards, when there is an endless ocean of sheets to separate them, she rolls over and curls into his side, strokes back his hair with gentle fingers that are so different from Thirrin's hard demanding ones. She kisses his skin with lips that have ended thousands and whispers, "Sleep well my warlock."

Only sleep never comes because she's too close and no breathe hits his overheated skin and he never can quite get used to the fact that she doesn't have a name. So Oskan lays there, staring with tar-pitch eyes at a ceiling that can't give him answers while his mind torments him with all his past transgressions and fuck-ups and children and everything in between that hasn't gone just so.

It's times like this that he truly wishes he could remember what his mother looked like. Her face comes in small waves - the shape of her nose one minute and the color of her eyes (_white white blue eyes that see and know_ _**everything**)_ the next. Her hair was what kept recurring, though. It was black, so black it looked almost blue in places, much like the ravens that traversed in and out of their cavernous home. And it felt like down underneath his fingers.

And no matter how hard, how often, how much he _pleads_ with the Goddess above he can never remember her voice.

The Witchfather lets out a growl reminiscent of Grinfang Sky-howler and leaps out of the cold downy bed. He doesn't want to remember his past, doesn't want to think about the maybes and the what-ifs and the fights. He just wants to feel now, feel something, anything, other than that mind-blowing sickening darkness that pervades every inch of his blackening soul. The universe bends to his will; Oskan makes it back to Frostmarris without so much as a sound of good-bye to the undead lover sleeping soundlessly back in her palace. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that there were bruises on her pale skin that he didn't cause, but it's not important. What's important is making it back to his children, Cressida Eodred Cedric Medea Charlemagne, and show how much he can love before they realize there is something _dreadfully _wrong with Papa.

He strides through the citadel like a living shadow, all dark eyes and hair with an oddly cadaverous complexion. The sun has yet to rise above the horizon but he could hear someone talking in a nearby apartment. A smile crosses his face for the first time in what seems like forever.

It's Sharley, little two-year-old Charlemagne, who can barely say "Mum" but has already mastered "Papa".

Charlemagne laughs frantically at the sight of his father, waving chubby little hands with emerald gemstone eyes that sparkle and beg at the same time. Oskan smiles right back and sweeps his youngest child up as he idly wonders what he would look like with dark hair instead of red, or maybe icy blue eyes instead of that too-bright shade of green -

NO! That road was off-limits, too far down the Bloody Brick Road because he doesn't love her can't love her he loves

Thirrin

Yes Thirrin, who never seems to have time for him, but always gives him a warm smile when she gets the chance. Thirrin, who was a warrior of greater experience and intelligence than most but couldn't reach the top of their wardrobe without a footstool. Thirrin, with her harsh voice and muscled body and straight peppermint white teeth who would scream at him for being a pig-headed oaf and punch him until she had no more strength, but would trace "I Love You" in their co-mingled sweat once the silence reigned once more. Thirrin the Queen and Thirrin the Mother and Thirrin the Wildcat who couldn't allow him control due to her nightmares of steel grey eyes and blood and dead bodies that lay sprawled off into the distance.

So as he stands with his son and thinks about how his life has twisted and involved him in one of the most fucked-up relationships in history. Of course, his life has had a history of screwing him over. Why stop now, when everything and everyone is convinced he is Good, he is White, he is Witchfather healer friend somewhat-king and consort.

Oskan kisses his youngest child atop the head and remembers

Bodies

Screaming

Dying men and children and

HER.

The first time it happened he was on a diplomatic mission. Too many cross-border attacks had to put it to an end otherwise too many would die and there would be no Hypolitan left for the next Great War. So Oskan went with a darkened heart, anger festering inside at his wife's _(she was the wife, he the consort because, really, what right did a peasant witch's son have to consider himself a king?) _dismissive attitude. He dealt with the queen, who was still so dreadfully sadistically maddeningly perfect. She was so different from Thirrin, slender and tall and paler than snow on a full-moon night, with those azure eyes that condemned him, and that sharp tongue that could spit out insults concealed in a honey-sweet veil of _lies_. She said something and he snapped. He pinned her with magic to the cold marble walls, not that she could feel it, and encroached violently into her personal space._  
_

And she _laughed_.

It was a haunting sound, tinkling and deadly like mid-winter icicles. And he just wanted her to

Shut UP!

but he couldn't think straight. All he could see was her lips and her eyes and that thrice-damned monster inside of him crooned pounce pounce pounce take. your. PREY. and he just couldn't say no. He kissed her hard, silencing that silver tongue with a vicious bite of her lower lip as his body pressed against hers. Magic had saved them from detection but nothing could really hide the sated and suprised look in her eyes once it was all said and done. A long nail, so red it hurt to look at, traced his pectoral muscles and Her Vampiric Majesty hummed quietly.

"You're a surprising man, Oskan Witchfather. Surprise me again."

And that encounter started the whole cycle.

The Queen is cold and the Queen is cruel and the Queen is a drug the likes of which no one has ever seen, but she lets Oskan take what he wants no matter how dark or depraved or sadistic. He has the power and control and she loves it because despite her best efforts he can still see the bruises on her psyche, the scars on what once was a beautiful working heart.

And that makes him want to destroy something.

Because Her Majesty the Queen is demure and in possession of an elfin grace that makes him fall to his knees in worship, bury his face in her cool toned belly and feel her curves beneath gossamer silk.

Oskan growls, clutches Charlemagne tightly, because he can't seem to get the damn image of _her_ out of his head. It's wrong wrong wrong and sick messed up disturbed. But when Sharley coos, giggles at him, he looks down and sees blue instead of green, pale instead of rosy, black in place of red, and he knows that it's gone on too long.

But he can't love _her_

can never love _her_ because he loves

Thirrin

Yes! Thirrin! Thirrin Thirrin he love love loves his wife, worships the ground she walks upon in her custom battle-born leather boots. Because Thirrin the Mother and Thirrin the Queen and Thirrin the Warrior was his life since childhood, and this Vampire this Queen of didn't have a soul.

Or maybe she did and he just didn't know it.

Because right now, miles away in a place only those of the dark and depraved undead variety go, there is a Queen cradling a broken jaw and praying to a Goddess she despises for her warlock to return.

And Oskan feels it in his core.

So he throws up a Glamour so strong he's quite sure everyone around him can taste it.

And he goes into the Solar for breakfast with a smile plastered on his face.

"Good morning, love. Did you have a wonderful night like me?"

**I'M BACK!**

**So due to many life difficulties, my fanfiction account has been. . . . rather inactive as of late. But I've found my sadistic and twisted romantic muse within the Icemark Chronicles, particularly dealing with Oskan/Vampire Queen. It's not a very well-known pairing (in fact I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who writes about it) but it piques my interest. And it makes that evil, dark part of Oskan come to life along with that wonderfully sarcastic evil Vampire Queen. **

**With that in mind, review and give me love, my lovelies.**

**BlackRosePoetry**


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